So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast.

441. TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON.

Shut not so soon; the dull-ey'd night Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light, Or to seal up the sun.

No marigolds yet closed are, No shadows great appear; Nor doth the early shepherd's star Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but till my Julia close Her life-begetting eye, And let the whole world then dispose Itself to live or die.

442. TO THE LITTLE SPINNERS.

Ye pretty housewives, would ye know The work that I would put ye to?

This, this it should be: for to spin A lawn for me, so fine and thin As it might serve me for my skin.

For cruel Love has me so whipp'd That of my skin I all am stripp'd: And shall despair that any art Can ease the rawness or the smart, Unless you skin again each part.

Which mercy if you will but do, I call all maids to witness to What here I promise: that no broom Shall now or ever after come To wrong a spinner or her loom.

_Spinners_, spiders.

443. OBERON'S PALACE.

After the feast, my Shapcot, see The fairy court I give to thee; Where we'll present our Oberon, led Half-tipsy to the fairy bed, Where Mab he finds, who there doth lie, Not without mickle majesty.

Which done, and thence remov'd the light, We'll wish both them and thee good-night.

Full as a bee with thyme, and red As cherry harvest, now high fed For l.u.s.t and action, on he'll go To lie with Mab, though all say no.

l.u.s.t has no ears; he's sharp as thorn, And fretful, carries hay in's horn, And lightning in his eyes; and flings Among the elves, if moved, the stings Of peltish wasps; well know his guard-- _Kings, though they're hated, will be fear'd_.

Wine lead[s] him on. Thus to a grove, Sometimes devoted unto love, Tinselled with twilight, he and they, Led by the shine of snails, a way Beat with their num'rous feet, which, by Many a neat perplexity, Many a turn and many a cross- Track they redeem a bank of moss, Spongy and swelling, and far more Soft than the finest Lemster ore, Mildly disparkling like those fires Which break from the enjewell'd tyres Of curious brides; or like those mites Of candi'd dew in moony nights.

Upon this convex all the flowers Nature begets by th' sun and showers, Are to a wild digestion brought, As if love's sampler here was wrought: Or Citherea's ceston, which All with temptation doth bewitch.

Sweet airs move here, and more divine Made by the breath of great-eyed kine, Who, as they low, impearl with milk The four-leaved gra.s.s or moss like silk.

The breath of monkeys met to mix With musk-flies are th' aromatics Which 'cense this arch; and here and there And farther off, and everywhere Throughout that brave mosaic yard, Those picks or diamonds in the card With peeps of hearts, of club, and spade Are here most neatly inter-laid Many a counter, many a die, Half-rotten and without an eye Lies hereabouts; and, for to pave The excellency of this cave, Squirrels' and children's teeth late shed Are neatly here enchequered With brownest toadstones, and the gum That shines upon the bluer plum.

The nails fallen off by whitflaws: art's Wise hand enchasing here those warts Which we to others, from ourselves, Sell, and brought hither by the elves.

The tempting mole, stolen from the neck Of the shy virgin, seems to deck The holy entrance, where within The room is hung with the blue skin Of shifted snake: enfriez'd throughout With eyes of peac.o.c.ks' trains and trout- Flies' curious wings; and these among Those silver pence that cut the tongue Of the red infant, neatly hung.

The glow-worm's eyes; the shining scales Of silv'ry fish; wheat straws, the snail's Soft candle light; the kitling's eyne; Corrupted wood; serve here for shine.

No glaring light of bold-fac'd day, Or other over-radiant ray, Ransacks this room; but what weak beams Can make reflected from these gems And multiply; such is the light, But ever doubtful day or night.

By this quaint taper light he winds His errors up; and now he finds His moon-tann'd Mab, as somewhat sick, And (love knows) tender as a chick.

Upon six plump dandillions, high- Rear'd, lies her elvish majesty: Whose woolly bubbles seem'd to drown Her Mabship in obedient down.

For either sheet was spread the caul That doth the infant's face enthral, When it is born (by some enstyl'd The lucky omen of the child), And next to these two blankets o'er- Cast of the finest gossamore.

And then a rug of carded wool, Which, sponge-like drinking in the dull Light of the moon, seemed to comply, Cloud-like, the dainty deity.

Thus soft she lies: and overhead A spinner's circle is bespread With cob-web curtains, from the roof So neatly sunk as that no proof Of any tackling can declare What gives it hanging in the air.

The fringe about this are those threads Broke at the loss of maidenheads: And, all behung with these, pure pearls, Dropp'd from the eyes of ravish'd girls Or writhing brides; when (panting) they Give unto love the straiter way.

For music now, he has the cries Of feigned-lost virginities; The which the elves make to excite A more unconquered appet.i.te.

The king's undrest; and now upon The gnat's watchword the elves are gone.

And now the bed, and Mab possess'd Of this great little kingly guest; We'll n.o.bly think, what's to be done, He'll do no doubt; _this flax is spun_.

_Mickle_, much.

_Carries hay in's horn_ (fnum habet in cornu), is dangerous.

_Peltish_, angry.

_Redeem_, gain.

_Lemster ore_, Leominster wool.

_Tyres_, head-dresses.

_Picks_, diamonds on playing-cards were so called from their points.

_Peeps_, pips.

_Whitflaws_, whitlows.

_Corrupted_, _i.e._, phosph.o.r.escent.

_Winds his errors up_, brings his wanderings to an end.

_Dandillions_, dandelions.

_Comply_, embrace.

_Spinner_, spider.

_Proof_, sign.

444. TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND, MR. THOMAS SHAPCOTT, LAWYER.

I've paid thee what I promis'd; that's not all; Besides I give thee here a verse that shall (When hence thy circ.u.mmortal part is gone), Arch-like, hold up thy name's inscription.

Brave men can't die, whose candid actions are Writ in the poet's endless calendar: Whose vellum and whose volume is the sky, And the pure stars the praising poetry.

Farewell

_Circ.u.mmortal_, more than mortal.

_Candid_, fair.

445. TO JULIA IN THE TEMPLE.

Besides us two, i' th' temple here's not one To make up now a congregation.

Let's to the altar of perfumes then go, And say short prayers; and when we have done so, Then we shall see, how in a little s.p.a.ce Saints will come in to fill each pew and place.

446. TO OENONE.

What conscience, say, is it in thee, When I a heart had one, To take away that heart from me, And to retain thy own?

For shame or pity now incline To play a loving part; Either to send me kindly thine, Or give me back my heart.

Covet not both; but if thou dost Resolve to part with neither, Why! yet to show that thou art just, Take me and mine together.

447. HIS WEAKNESS IN WOES.

I cannot suffer; and in this my part Of patience wants. _Grief breaks the stoutest heart._

448. FAME MAKES US FORWARD.

To print our poems, the propulsive cause Is fame--the breath of popular applause.

449. TO GROVES.